Moments Spun
by southern cross
Summary: Patrick and Grace have too many things left unsaid between them.  A series of Season Two epilogues where they speak what needs saying.
1. Chapter 1

As I watched Season Two I kept thinking of ways to splice together my favorite pairing, and how I love me some Grace and Patrick. Please enjoy and review! I own nothing and mean no harm.

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1

Had there been a way to undo it, she would have, Grace was not a gossip monger or a nosy parker. And watching Jane hug Lisbon, in full view of everyone, in broad daylight; made her feel like she had stumbled onto a private moment.

A week later and she was still uncomfortable at having been a witness.

There had been talk that there were more than simple professional courtesies being exchanged between Lisbon and Jane, but Grace herself had been caught in a talk or two and knew how uncomfortable it could be to be the subject; so her lips had stayed firmly shut on the subject.

Her eyes weren't talk though, Jane had hugged Lisbon; he'd hugged her. Men didn't hug Grace, flirt with her, grab her up for kisses, sure, but never just a hug.

It was the height thing.

At least she thought it was.

Sitting at her desk Grace had a clear view of the comings and goings, Cho was at his desk, Lisbon was out with Rigsby and Jane, well she had no idea where he was.

Cho looked up, catching her eye as he hung up the phone, "That was Lisbon, she's calling it a night, told us to head home," they had been trying to work out some new angles on a rash of robbery-homicides in Napa, but they didn't have a lot to work with and even less for Jane to play with.

"I'm going to finish this up and then I'll clear out," Grace pointed to her monitor; Cho gave her a half smile and stood.

"Night Van Pelt," she smiled, she had told him he could call her Grace but he was Cho and his sense of propriety kept her firmly 'Van Pelt'.

"See you tomorrow," Grace waved, looking back at her screen she plowed through her queries. As hard a worker as anyone, with maybe more to prove than most, Grace was not going to be chained to a desk. There had to be off time or there would never be an on time.

Advice from Cho in fact, sound and practical, Grace had taken it to heart and was making an effort at separating on from off.

"Done," talking to oneself in a large family, where words in solitude were rare, was not uncommon, and living alone as she did now, had only made the habit worse.

Powering down her station, she retrieved her purse, small and functional, her real hand bags, all designer (the same designer she was a stickler about some things) were big and impractical for work. Grace kept them organized in her closet by season. Maybe she would cruise EBay tonight and see what was newly listed.

Pleased with her plans it was with a smile that she headed to the elevators, the doors opening soon after she hit the button.

"Grace," the pleased as punch voice of Patrick Jane met her as she stepped onto the elevator.

"Jane," Grace nodded in acknowledgment, her smile disappearing even as his grin grew.

"Going down," ignoring him she rolled her eyes and waited for him to hit 'L', after a chuckle at her expense of course.

"All done for the day," Jane had turned towards her. Grace took a deep breath, it was never good to have all that attention focused your way, and she was just not in the mood tonight, but manners were too hard coded in her.

"Yes, Lisbon called it a night," she snuck a glance to her right, if he reacted at all to the mention of the name it wasn't in his face.

Jane was still bright eyes and wide smiles. The arrival of the lobby interrupted what she was sure would have been a witty retort.

Moving first Jane held the door open and Grace murmured thanks as she passed. Jane was taller than her, not as much of a difference as Rigsby who might have even been too tall for her taste. Jane was just tall enough that she had to tilt her head up to see his eyes clearly given how close they were.

"You're welcome Grace," he didn't have any trouble using her name, nor did he have permission, but she liked the way it rolled off his tongue; liked it enough not to care.

Uncomfortable enough with her thought her strides grew longer and more determined. Grace was ready to get to her car and put this day behind her.

Patrick Jane had long legs to go with his tall frame and kept up with her through the lobby and into the parking lot. Jane didn't speak; the silence was unsettling, Grace ground her teeth, if he was pulling her chain she was not going to let it get to her (which it totally was).

Their cars were parked near enough together that they made almost the whole trip side by side.

Jane looked at her sideways, "Thank you for the escort Grace. You never know who might be lurking out here," her smile was unfortunately automatic, his humor to infectious not to be affected.

"You're welcome," she caught herself, "Jane. Have a good night."

Calling him Patrick was on such a different level than him calling her Grace.

As soon as his footsteps stopped she knew he had caught it. Grace kept on walking, just in case he had driven a rental Taurus today.

Her SUV was close; her hand slid into her purse, interior pocket without the zipper, and hit the auto-lock on her keys. Grace had reached the fender of her escape vehicle when his voice stopped her cold, "Jealousy doesn't suit you."

On one foot she turned slowly her keys still clutched in her right hand, Jane stood next to the Taurus, hands in his pockets as though he hadn't just been completely out of line.

The grin on his face had to hurt it was so wide, God she wished she could smack it off of him, "Curiosity is a much better color on you," she might just hit him.

Jane was happy to wait for her response, of which she had a few, but most involved pain, she could work with that.

"Aren't you going to ask me," her eyes narrowed at his question, they were four feet apart, she hovered just on the edge of his strongest range of influence.

Much of what he pulled off was with touch and up close contact and she was keeping well away from that tactic.

"Oh come on Grace, I know you want to ask," cheeky bastard. Grace bit the inside of her cheek. There was nothing keeping her here, he was being an ass but she was off-duty and not required to put up with it.

This was a no-win situation, she leaves he gloats, she stays and he drives her crazy; it wasn't fair. Jane should be following Lisbon, teasing her since he had _hugged_ her.

Frustration turned into irritation that fast, Grace yelled when she was really mad, no one at work had witnessed it yet, but when annoyed or in this case really, really irritated she rambled and Patrick Jane was about to get the brunt of it.

"You're right Jane I am curious about what's going on with you and my boss. And yes I am a little jealous that Agent Lisbon may be getting some and I'm not," Jane's eyes went wide at the implication but Grace pushed right on through, "Because you know Rigsby, for all his flirting and long glances, hasn't stepped up yet and six months is my limit. So I had to put that behind me, only I can't tell him that because he likes flirting and hinting and while it was cute at first, I'm over it, and too nice to say anything."

At this point Grace thought Jane might have gotten a clue that he had pushed too far, but she didn't care, it felt too good to say everything that had been building up inside.

"This is great you know, I feel great, I get it now why you run your mouth constantly, why you don't care what people think when you speak because it's liberating."

Jane opened his mouth but Grace waved him off, "No, no this is my moment. I want to know why I get all the tech assignments when Rigsby has the degree or why I had to give back that necklace, or maybe," Grace paused, taking two steps closer, drawing him into her damn sphere, because he was hooked, she could tell. Jane was absolutely enthralled by her, and it went to her head as fast as it made her wet.

"Maybe you could tell me why my last boyfriend was a psychopath and no one else I've dated since has called me back, could you answer me that? Why after trying so hard for so long I'm still alone, still unhappy," his eyes had darkened and she knew she was crossing a dangerous line, but her lips moved anyway, "Tell me why you hugged her and no one hugs me."

They were toe to toe, her head was back just enough to see his eyes; they were darker and more concerned than she had seen them. Grace swallowed when she realized the concern was for her.

As intense as her anger had burned it died out just as fast, "Oh my God."

Realization crashed into her, there was no way she had just thrown all those words in his face. Patrick Jane was her colleague and probably her boss' lover and she had just, "Oh my God."

Stumbling back Grace covered her mouth, smacking her keys into her teeth, wincing she turned away from him and all but ran to her car.

"Stupid, stupid, key!" through her tears Grace could barely make out the door handle and her fingers were shaking too badly.

"Damn," tears were more of a problem now, falling, messy and when she got in her car, if she ever did, there would be sobs and snot and she smacked her door with her palm.

Without warning Jane was there, stepping close behind her, he wore cologne, Grace wasn't sure she if had known that before.

"No, Jane, don't," he ignored her; she struggled as he wrapped his arms around her. He was stronger than he looked and her heart wasn't in the fight.

"Grace, Grace, Grace," sagging against him, Grace felt him catch her weight wrapping his arms tighter around her, "Its OK Grace. Everyone has their moments and yours was now," Jane's chuckles were a rumble against her back.

Without pause Jane began to talk, a low hum of words, Grace missed a lot of what he said. No, he wasn't with Lisbon, and yes Rigsby was an ass were all she managed.

And then Jane was silent and Grace realized that her tears had stopped and her head was clearing and she was being hugged.

"Jane."

"Patrick," Grace blushed at his interruption, she shouldn't call him that.

"Patrick," but she did, "I'm so sorry. The ramble and the whining," she groaned.

"I thought it was charming," that got a choked laugh out of her; funnier still she believed him.

"Sometimes when we do something so very out of character it improves someone else's," Grace squeezed his wrist which she hadn't realized she had been gripping.

"Like a hug" her voice was hoarse and she could feel a migraine building.

"Yes Grace like a hug," she nodded, "or a verbal hemorrhage in a parking lot," his snark made her snort.

Grace found it hard to believe Patrick Jane was open to having his character altered much less from her, but it was nice to hear. He was talking again, murmuring into her hair, the tension was leaving her neck and shoulders.

Leaving was what she should be doing, following a round of apologies first, but leaving and hiding were what she needed to do.

"We'll worry about everything tomorrow Grace," she thought maybe he was working his mojo on her, "OK," and maybe Grace just didn't care.


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks to everyone who reviewed this fic. I know it's not the most popular pairing but Jace is mad hot. Still spinning through Season Two but will reference events in chapter one. I love this chapter so let me know what you think. Did I mention I adore this chapter? I own nothing and mean no harm.

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2

After their parking lot 'meeting', Grace had chosen that word because 'moment' was cliché and 'incident' was dramatic, she found herself much more in tune with Jane.

She blamed him for the fallout, if Jane hadn't done what he'd done what with the hugging with the _arms_, than Grace would never have been paying attention. The extra care she spent following him with her eyes had been why she had caught him fiddling with his left ear when no one was looking.

Figuring out what he'd done had not been that much work after that. The whole office was now buzzing about the confrontation between Jane and Bosco and Jane's unprecedented surrender.

Or so they had all thought. Grace hadn't believed for a second that Jane was going to give in that easily, neither had Cho or Rigsby for that matter.

Spying on another officer though, even if it was the person investigating the monster who slaughtered your family, was wrong. Since one and one had made two Grace had wrestled with what to do. There were lines and rules and bending of rules and blurring of lines; and there was wrong.

Bugging an office definitely fell into the 'wrong' category.

Just because Grace knew why he was doing it, unraveling what to do with the information had not gone any easier. There were some things that not even Lisbon's stubbornness or Jane's own disarming charm could make go away.

And this was one of them, she was sure of it. As it happened everyone in their unit had gone home for the night, Grace had hung behind later than usual, on purpose. She knew he was there, pretending to be asleep as Bosco worked late holed up in his office.

From the break area Grace could see Jane's feet propped up on the arm rest of his beloved sofa. He was good, she'd give him that, he certainly looked the part, but Grace wasn't convinced he had ever really slept on that sofa.

Pulling out her phone she made her decision.

**I know what you're doing and you need to stop. It's wrong.**

Biting her lip Grace hesitated, if she did this, she couldn't undo it, no telling if he would give up his cover to answer or even read her text, but Grace made her way to the stairwell just in case. She pressed the send button just as she opened the door.

Cowardly as it might have looked she fled up, she wasn't sure she was ready to face Jane on his turf. The office might have been technically hers, she was the one with the badge, but Jane held court on that floor and even Grace couldn't deny it.

Not that being with him in a space without walls was much better; she headed for the roof anyway.

There was a slight breeze, nothing her long sleeve shirt couldn't handle, but her hair was having a bit of fun. Grace was pulling her hair through the second twist of the rubber band when the door to the roof banged open behind her.

"What's the meaning of this?" Jane approached, waving his cell phone at her; the lines around his eyes were tight. Patrick Jane was not amused. Steeling herself Grace met his eyes; she had made her decision and would not be bullied by him.

Shoulders squared, she didn't flinch when he blatantly reassessed her body language.

"You're listening in on Bosco," she blurted out.

There was no use dancing around the issue, he could exploit that, honesty was harder for him to use; if he was going to 'Jane' her than Grace was going to make him work for it.

"Is that a fact," Jane stepped closer, slipping his phone back into his pocket, Grace watched his brain switch over as he moved. He was going to play her.

"It is, you know it is, and I know it is, and I know why you are doing it," she almost said she understood but she didn't, not even close, but that didn't change how she felt, "But it's wrong and Jane you have to stop."

Jane tilted his head, just a little to the left, and Grace sucked in her gut, this was going to be bad, "Do I now," he asked.

That calm and collected voice, as smooth as silk made her shiver because Grace knew, knew what was coming after.

"Jane please," but he cut her off with a wave of his hand.

"That man knows something about Red John, new things, pertinent things, and is not sharing."

Jane's pupils were wide, his breathing shortened, it was as far from collected as Grace had seen him, at least up close.

"Jane," he smirked and she snapped her mouth shut.

"The least you can do is call me Patrick, Grace, since we are so concerned about each other's welfare.

Grace tried to backpedal, just a little, "I'm not saying that Bosco isn't an ass," because he was, "Or that you couldn't be helpful," because he could, "But bugging his office is wrong," and it was, it so was and she wished she were anywhere else at the moment. Anywhere not here with him and trying to be the voice of good when she wasn't convinced she should be.

"So I've gone too far," she nodded at his query, Jane was pacing now, she sure he'd seen, "Yes."

"I shouldn't have done this," Jane clarified and pulled the receiver from his ear.

Grace frowned, "Jane please, maybe Lisbon-"

"-No Grace, no, Lisbon can't fix this, not this," his words were rich with anger Jane was losing it and it was her fault.

"No one can fix this," Grace stepped forward, comfort on the tip of her tongue, but Jane paced out of reach.

"He killed them, both of them," he had never spoken to her about _them_ before her heart twisted in her chest.

"Nothing's too much Grace, nothing's too far," his eyes burned into hers and she knew he meant every word.

"You'll go to any lengths than" her voice was smaller than she would have liked, "You would do anything," better, but more accusatory than she would have liked.

"Accusations Grace, really how very like the pot to talk down to the kettle," Grace's shock was palpable, Jane stepped close, she felt his breath on her cheek, "Tell me Grace how far would you have gone in there?"

With spinning thoughts Grace immediately placed the implications; of course he knew that she had tried her hand at interrogating.

"Would you have done anything to get a confession," Jane was crowding her, using his voice and words too big for one presence to get a rise out of her and she didn't want him to have it.

"Would you have done this," he dragged a finger down her cheek, Grace swung her head to the right, her temper warring with the burning shame in her gut, "Or maybe this," the same finger yanked the rubber band from her hair.

Using her body the way she had, she got it, she knew what he was implying, and she wasn't proud of it. Grace had been disappointed in Lisbon as a leader and a woman for suggesting it, but Grace had done it despite her misgivings, and was the most disappointed in her own weakness.

That didn't mean she wanted to tell _him_ that.

"Or maybe you would have gone with the big guns," Jane was on her so fast Grace hardly registered it. His arms were around her and his face was buried against her neck, it was more touching, she was reminded of their 'hug'.

Then the intention hit, the implication and her temper spiked, "Fuck you."

Grace fought and twisted, all training going, she was an angry female and he was the asshole touching her without permission.

"Get off," Jane wasn't letting go and panic was settling in, "Grace, Grace please."

Blood was pounding in her ears, breaking free of his hold Grace got ten steps between them before his voice registered.

"I'm sorry Grace. I'm so sorry," it was the shame in his voice that made her turn, the fear in his eyes brought tears to her own.

"It wasn't my idea, Lisbon wanted," Grace knew now that Lisbon wanted time, "She wanted my tits to keep him in that room so she could buy some time. I knew it," she had, "I knew it," her stomach twisted in pain.

Disgust filled her, maybe he saw it, and maybe he cared, because he stepped towards her again his arms out stretching, Grace stepped back.

"No, no, you're right, you are. I did exactly what I thought I never would, what you aren't ashamed to admit," she met his eyes, eyes that were pleading, the Jane she knew and liked and didn't want to see right now, "I compromised myself to get what I wanted."

Bile reached her throat, but she choked it back down, "Lisbon shouldn't-"his attempt to appease her made her laugh and it wasn't pretty.

"No. No, Lisbon didn't make me do it. She dangled the carrot in front of me but no one made me."

"I've overstepped my bounds," cupping her elbows Grace shrugged, "And in no position to judge so you just do whatever you want."

Jane made a face, "Don't."

"Oh no, no, no, you don't get to make that face at me. You thought I whored myself out for a confession, therefore justifying you bugging an office for information, so don't make a face when you're right."

Grace's decision had been the wrong one earlier, "I should have just told Lisbon, let her sort it out. Clearly I'm not qualified."

Jane cringed, "Bitterness doesn't suit you."

"I disagree, I'm a girl who can wear many different hats," she wanted him gone, "Go away Jane. Go do what you need to do."

Grace turned away, the night sky blurred as the first tears fell. This wasn't how she thought it would be she had wanted to help, to save lives. Not much life saving involved in chasing murderers. Maybe homicide wasn't for her. Talking to suspects might never get easier, the male ones anyway, and she didn't want to be that person; the person she had been in that interrogation room had disgusted her.

"Don't do that," Jane stepped up behind her. Grace tensed as he wrapped his arms around her, "Don't doubt you."

"Jane stop," her order was weak and he only held her tighter.

"I'm sorry Grace, so, so sorry," she couldn't ignore his sincerity, "Forgive me please."

Grace stopped squirming; Jane tightened the hold he had on her, "I'm sorry."

He dropped his chin onto her shoulder, this time when he pressed his face into her hair Grace didn't push him off. Grace knew she shouldn't be so forgiving, he had crossed a line, several lines. Emotions ran high in them both it turned out, she got that; couldn't exactly hold it against him.

"It's OK Jane, I'm fine," she wasn't though, not really.

"You're lying," he was still holding her.

"Yes, but I don't hate you," and that was the truth and she didn't just like him either and that scared her.

Grace made another decision, "I'm not going to be that person Patrick," Lisbon and her ideas could fuck off.

Jane pressed a kiss to her temple, Grace lost her breath, "I'm going to try Grace," it wasn't a promise to stop or slow down, but it was something. And tonight that was enough for her.


	3. Chapter 3

Shorter than I would have liked but Patrick Jane is a hard guy to speak for. I hope you like what's here. I own nothing and mean no harm.

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3

The evening was starting to drag. Lisbon had locked herself in Bosco's office, giving her statement, which was no doubt turning into a heated exchange of words. Patrick had already been summoned for his and it had gone better than he had hoped. Cho had asked more questions than Patrick had thought necessary but he had played along, there were times, this being one, where discretion was needed.

Turning his attention back towards the rest of the team Rigsby was diligently sorting files, and Van Pelt was staring intently at her monitor.

With sights set on the red head Patrick sent Rigsby to fetch Cho a file he hadn't asked for; it had almost been too easy.

"That wasn't very nice," Patrick wasn't sure when Grace had started reading him through him, but he found it charming.

"I'm not very nice," he took a seat on the edge of her desk; the expected reprimand didn't come at the intrusion of her privacy but her jaw tightened visibly.

"You know I do like what you've done with your hair," Patrick commented with a smile, her eyebrows rose, but she kept her gaze on the monitor.

"A little change is always nice," Grace frowned at his specific choice of words.

"Nice, really," she huffed. He grinned, finally a crack in her armor, she glanced at him her back stiffening.

"What, you were expecting something more effulgent," she snorted, looking at him her work abandoned, she twisted her chair to face him her arms crossing.

"I don't expect anything from you," the conviction behind her words was sincere, Patrick found his smile fading. Her reaction shouldn't bother him, she was Grace, they had shared a moment, or two, but Lisbon was his tether.

Grace was, well he didn't know what she was, "Come with me to dinner."

Clearly Grace didn't expect much from him, and the invite had surprised her, "Um."

Squirming in her chair, Patrick found himself eager to follow through on his impulse. Reaching over he turned off her monitor, she scrambled back lest he clothesline her, Patrick ignored her half hearted protests, "Well come on, I'm starving."

Standing he reached for her coat, still ignoring her more vocal protests, they had just shared lunch together and Lisbon would probably need him soon, but he was reluctant to be Teresa's clutch. Besides, Jane wanted to eat with Van Pelt, he enjoyed her quiet companionship, he couldn't ignore she had a calming effect on him.

They were at his car before she gathered up enough bluster to put a hand on his arm and hold him still, "Jane we can't."

He grinned, "Yes, Grace we can. We are two colleagues going out to eat. We absolutely can."

The lie rolled off his tongue too easily, he was absolutely certain they shouldn't do this. Lisbon's words had affected him, standing here in the parking lot; Jane only just came to terms with that.

The thought of Van Pelt and Rigsby, together, unbalanced him. It shouldn't, it really shouldn't matter whom she had worn her hair down for, "Come on I'm starving," but it did.

Grace nodded, he knew she knew it was wrong, a terrible idea, but she got in the car anyway. Patrick would hurt her, he would regret it, but right now he wouldn't let her go.


	4. Chapter 4

I wish I like the guy they stuck Grace with, but he's meh, so it's still Jace for me! Please enjoy. I own nothing and mean no harm.

"So," Jane plopped down onto the chair next to Van Pelt's desk.

"Jane," by way of greeting it was cordial at best, but that was all Grace could muster today.

She knew he knew; there was not a single doubt in her mind that Jane knew what had transpired in the basement and the hours following.

Rigsby could deny all he wanted, but that didn't change anything, "How are you?"

Grace risked a small glance at his face, she didn't linger, as it wasn't her place. His grin was all cheek, but his eyes were serious.

"I'm good," she could handle him maybe if he toned it down but if he started messing with her head again either by teasing, the jabs about her beliefs always stung, or with a hug, she would scream.

Well she might not scream but she would want too.

"Just good," definite curiosity in his voice now, "Not ecstatic or euphoric," he leaned in close, "Or satiated."

She had been dead wrong, she could not do this, not here, and specifically not with him. Standing, he jerked back at her abrupt movement.

"Excuse me," it wasn't in her nature to be so rude, her stomach was churning, but she didn't stop walking, didn't stop even to look when he called her back.

Turning the corner she ducked into the stairwell. No one used the stairs when there were perfectly good elevators available.

Realistically there was zero chance she would get away if he wanted to have a discussion with her. Besides, the fact that he would use some special Jane mojo to deduce where she was, the loud click of the metal door was a dead giveaway to her escape route.

Sure enough her feet had just stopped on the landing one floor below did she hear above her open and close. There was a moment when she considered making a run for it, but that was madness. Better to stay put, get it over with and move on.

Leaning against the wall she slipped her hands into the pockets of slacks and watched him descend the steps in front of her.

"You ran away," he shook a finger at her, his voice not nearly as teasing as it had been.

Grace shrugged, "You were going to start and I didn't want to get into it in public," it was harsher than normal, but she was not feeling generous today.

Jane stepped closer, invading her personal space, she sighed he was getting predictable.

"Aren't you happy," her eyes widened a fraction, so maybe he still had a few tricks up his sleeve because this was not what she was expecting. Why would he care if she was happy or not.

"There wouldn't be anything for us to 'get into'," he used air quotes and she wanted to smack him, "if you were happy."

The surprise overrode everything else; of all the questions she hadn't expected that, it faded though. Anger began to build, the burn of righteous indignation, and that outcome would not be pretty for anyone.

Lifting her chin, her hands moved, palms lying flat on his chest, Jane faltered, his eyes flicking to her hands and back up to her face.

Grace ignored the triple beat she had felt, ignored the warmth beneath her palms; she had him now and she wanted to play. Deliberately she curled her fingers, scratching as she went; the slight dilation of his eyes was unmistakable and gave her courage. "Am I happy?" she all but purred.

Later she would take pride in the fact that he never saw it coming. Bracing her heels against the wall she pushed, hard.

Jane stumbled back, yeah she had loved it. There was a lecture on the tip of her tongue, indignation would fuel her words; but watching him right himself, smoothing out his ever present vest, the will for it vanished.

She saw the fight in his eyes, he was going to enjoy it and unleash all his weapons, but she had one weapon.

"It's better than being alone," as she guessed the truth dismantled him. And just because she was still annoyed she smirked at him, "It's not like there were any other offers." Let him stew over that, it was what he deserved. Turning she left him staring open mouthed at her retreat.


	5. Chapter 5

I cannot get enough of this pairing. This is my favorite of my Grace moments, she's a strong woman and I adore her. Please enjoy and review! I own nothing and mean no harm.

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The pain was just under tolerable; Grace could deal with that. Not a problem. She was not stubborn enough to refuse pain meds so she was floating, or at least hovering, the first full day at her place since her release.

The visitors had been non-stop. First at the hospital, both the first day and the second her door had been constantly opening. By the third morning, that of her release, she thought she would go crazy from all the concern going her way.

Rigsby had been the worst; she wouldn't have minded his hovering had he not felt the need to constantly have a chaperone when he was fussing over her.

As if she would have let him make a move in the state she was in.

Her fourth day of recuperation had started off quietly, as far as she knew the team embroiled in a new case; and while she would have liked to have been included, she was sore enough to not miss it too terribly.

Everything had been fine until she had decided on a bath. A long hot soak was too tempting to resist so she had drawn the water, poured in just enough scented oil to make the room smell delicious.

Out of habit she had taken her phone with her into the bathroom, it lay on the edge of her vanity, she hoped there was enough battery left in it for at least half of her playlist to run through.

She didn't feel like going in search of her iPod. Her attention was so focused on her phone, that she was hardly paying attention to herself as she began stripping off her clothes.

So focused on other things her reflection in the mirror startled her; and then scared the shit out of her.

"Oh my God." There horrible bruises covering her bare chest and breasts. The color had finally turned the deep black the doctor's had warned was coming. The sight of him was stunning.

Her first breath was short, too short; her heart had begun to pound in her chest. She heard the loud drums in racing in her ears and the nausea rose. Swaying she grabbed onto the sink and willed the room to stop spinning. The phone clattered to the floor and the room didn't obey. The soothing scent of honeysuckle in the water had turned on her, settling her stomach into flips and somersaults.

Panic was settling in, she knew it, identified the attack, but couldn't stop it; didn't know how. She needed help.

Stumbling, dropping to one knee, the movement sent her to the toilet where she just managed to get her lunch into the bowl.

One arm wrapped around the seat, her left hand grabbed blinding for her phone. She needed help; now.

Contacts, the important ones were on speed dial. Hold a number in long enough and it went through. Her Mom would always be one, Lisbon three and Rigsby four.

She knew them all by heart.

There was no explanation why her thumb sought out nine and held it until the tip of her finger went numb.

Nothing about the latest homicide had piqued his interest. Lisbon had grumbled but her half hearted protest hadn't convinced him to get off his couch.

When the phone in his pocket began to vibrate he puzzled for the briefest moments over who it might be. The team hadn't been gone long enough to find anything that would capture his interest and Bosco was sitting in his office.

That only left one person, "Hello Grace." He was smiling as he spoke; he had wondered when she would be calling. His avoidance of her had been deliberate. He had visited her three times in the hospital; tagging along when Cho and Lisbon had swung by. He hadn't been to see her alone.

"Grace," there was still no reply, sitting up; he took another look at his phone. 'Grace' clearly on the screen; why would she call and not speak. She wasn't the prank sort at all.

A shuffle, and a groan in his ear, he stood jacket already in his hand. Something was wrong. He didn't stop to consider why she had called him only that there were clear sounds of her vomiting and the harsh labored breathing of someone not OK.

"I'm coming Grace," there was more shuffling some static and he hoped she was picking up her phone.

"I could have died," he had never heard her sound so broken. Not even that terrible night on the roof. The breakdown had come. The horrible and sudden crash of _what might have happened_ that could cripple you; had crippled her.

"Lisbon was pissed I passed on the cheating wife gets bludgeoned by jealous wife, which is an interesting twist, but I'm not going to Oxnard for that," her short uneven breathing were all the response he got, but the talking would ground her. At the very least it grounded him.

Grace lived near headquarters, she was a good agent like that, so all Jane had to do was keep her on the line long enough to traverse the 3.2 miles to her condo.

"And that is why purple was chosen." The story was inconsequential he had just kept talking.

Balancing the phone on his shoulder Jane flipped through the keys on the small ring he kept in his glove box, stopping on a silver key he slipped it in the lock.

"Grace," her living room was empty, neat and full of earth tones. There were pictures everywhere. Family, friends, co-workers there were so many images.

"Grace its Jane," through the living room, the kitchen was empty he moved slowly down the hall. Taking the door to the right, through a bedroom full of pastels, he moved towards the light that was on in the adjoining bathroom.

Easing to the door, Jane pushed it open slowly, "Oh Grace." The stench was overwhelming, bile and something fruity he supposed from the full tub of water. On the floor half curled around the toilet was Grace.

When she heard him calling, faint at first, she thought she had slipped into a dream. He called to her again, closer this time, like in the same room close; Grace flinched. Her shame at war with her fear, she was not far enough removed from the panic attack to pull herself together.

"Easy now," Jane, Patrick, she supposed now that he had seen her mostly nude they could be on a first name basis, was helping her ease into a more comfortable sitting position.

Turning in his arms, she felt the cool rag on her face, wiping away the mess on her cheek. She wouldn't look at him; he had looked at her though. The hiss of shock at the mess that was now her body undid her.

The first tears fell, the very first since the doors had closed on the ambulance and she had been alone. They fell now, soaking into his shirt. Uncharacteristically quiet Jane held her, letting her cry it out of her system; stroking her hair, his fingers easing the tension away and soothing her more than she could have said. When she wasn't sure she had any tears left in her she began to speak.

Panic attack, nausea, fear, realization Grace rolled through them all and Jane sat there holding her close. Knowing he would do far more good with his silence than any words. He knew death well only not from her perspective; what he would say would hardly be relevant.

Respectful of her nudity, but too concerned to leave her alone, Jane covered her long enough to pull the plug and draw up another bath; no oils this time just the scalding hot water. Grace offered no complain when he helped her ease into the tub, underwear still on, she could shuck them once in the water. He pulled the curtain half closed and stepped back.

Grace tried not to obsess over the fact that she had really almost died, pushing it away was hard, finding a distraction proved easy. Patrick was cleaning up her bathroom, talking as he went, more of the same nonsensical facts he had shared on the phone; it was now as it had been then, her lifeline.

She was saved from further thought by the automatic work of her hands as they cleaned her hair and body. Repetition was proving to be a life saver. When she was as clean as she was going to get, she pulled the plug, watching as the water drained away.

Jane was there, towel open; she felt his stare and was unconcerned that he was seeing her more exposed than Rigsby ever had in their brief intimate interludes. Standing she wrapped the towel around her body, wincing as the fabric stretched tight over her breasts.

"I made tea," Patrick had led her to her bed and she saw the mug on the nightstand, when he would have stepped away, she caught his hand. Her eyes finally seeking his and holding his look, "I'm not leaving."

Of course he would have the answer to the question she hadn't been sure she was brave enough to answer. Nodding, she believed him, trusted him, wasn't that why she had picked Nine over any other number. Idly she watched Patrick pick at the odds and ends on her dresser until his fingers settled on her Grandmother's hair brush. "May I" he picked up the brush, she nodded, yes.

Sitting behind her, Jane brushed out the long, wet strands of deep red until they shone, dry and beautiful. Easing a sleeping Grace onto the pillow Patrick flicked off the light, stepping out of his shoes as he undid his vest, his eyes never leaving hers. It would be a long time until he could push back the wickedness of those bruises to the back of his mind. For now though he wanted to indulge comfort and warmth, he slid under the covers, his body eased behind hers as though he had done it a thousand times before. Grace sighed snuggling back against his chest Patrick didn't resist the need to wrap his arms tightly around her and only briefly entertained the absurd notion that he might not want to ever let go.


	6. Chapter 6

Angsty little shot that I couldn't resist. I own nothing and mean no harm.

* * *

Dead cops were a mood killer; should have been a mood killer.

Rigsby had been itching for sex non-stop since they had lowered Bosco into the ground. Grace had used nearly every excuse in the books, made up a few of her own, until she had finally given up.

She wasn't sure when it became easier to simply let her legs spread than keep them closed. The person that she was becoming was becoming disgusting.

"Those kinds of thoughts are going to get you in trouble," Grace looked up, had had no choice but to look up, Jane was smiling. His eyes weren't twinkling she noted off hand, but there was heat behind the smile.

Twisting her chair, she figured Jane was a better distraction than where her thoughts were taking her.

"My thoughts are mine," she shrugged, "and if they get me in trouble than I guess that's OK."

Jane sat on the edge of her desk; she didn't flinch when his leg bumped her knee. Personal space had never been an issue for him, and since the 'night' he had ignored hers entirely.

None of the annoyance that should have been there manifested, he liked to push her buttons, and she really didn't mind. The stolen moments when Jane teased her, taunted her, and generally made her blush had also become the most times she smiled in a day.

Again she wondered when she had become a person who took pleasure from teasing.

"Penny for your thoughts," Jane nudged her leg again.

Grace rolled her eyes, "You're worth more than that." Jane didn't miss a beat, he leaned forward quickly, the hint of his aftershave slipped into her next breath.

"How about now," the brief touch of his fingers to her ear sent a shiver down her spine, their eyes locked. She wondered if he was reading her now, could he tell his touch had made her wet?

He grinned and she felt confident that the answer was yes. The moment passed, he withdrew a shiny, silver dollar from her ear, depositing it into her open palm. Her Father collected coins, to her Mother's dismay he had discovered how many other people loved coins on EBay. There had been many a frantic hour in the Van Pelt household when a bidding war had begun.

So Grace fisted her hand around the coin that she would not be returning.

"I was thinking about the person I've become," she met his eyes, they were clear and attentive, it was too easy to talk to him when he was like this. "And whether or not I liked her," or respected her, but that might fall into over sharing.

Jane was silent as he considered her words, and found his reply. He grinned, "I like her just fine."

Rolling her eyes, again, she flipped the coin easily, and then slid it over her knuckles.

"Impressive," the words warmed her, compliments from Jane were rare.

"And your opinion is the only one that matters right," she should have let it go, could have when he looked away from the coin, eyes moving back to hers, she knew she absolutely should have.

"You said it," he smirked, but there was no heat behind the words so she took a deep breath of relief.

"And what does our dear Wayne think of this 'new woman'," she sucked in a breath that he had gone _there_. The understanding was between them that they never talked about his ring and her boyfriend. Only he had gone there. Nothing in the look he was giving her betrayed the enormity of what he'd done.

She swallowed once, it was a moment of weakness, she knew that; but this was a change in whatever they had been. Answers, both honest and evasive, presented themselves; she rejected them all. Jane would see through her bullshit. And all of those answers were bullshit. Except one, "I don't think he's seen a difference."

The truth of the words felt good on her tongue, and Jane took his sweet time in studying her reaction to her own loose tongue. He shrugged, pleased at her, "That should tell you everything."

How right he was. Grace flipped the coin, her eyes never leaving Jane's; she had had the answers all along.


	7. Chapter 7

Shortest bit of Jane insight/angst ever! Enjoy.

His nose ached, he assumed there would be swelling there tomorrow. The pain was annoying, keeping his thoughts scattered, but he didn't begrudge Lisbon her violence. Making the scheme work was worth a little bit of pain.

The only pang of regret in his chest had been the white lie he had told when pressed about his own call.

While Lisbon would certainly been on his list, she would not have been first, nor his only.

A moment had been stolen for himself, tucked away in the bathroom, he had sent a text to the one person he didn't want to think was dying. There was unfinished business between him and Van Pelt, and he didn't want theatrics to interfere.

So he had texted his intentions and secured from her a no snitch vow.

Grace had not been amused, he had seen her glare of disapproval through the message and it had made him grin. Given the nature and specifics of the case at hand the distraction had been welcomed.

Lately Grace had become welcome in his thoughts and occupations. The very fact that he gave her warning at all spoke volumes. The words though, they were still unclear.

They spoke in abstract. Snippets of conversations and stolen moments that had accumulated into a brief, important text message in the bathroom; somehow Grace had become his first call.


End file.
